


Tumblr Prompt Drabbles

by nuclearwinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Play, Bad Dirty Talk, Bad Jokes, Bottom Dave, Bulges and Nooks, Consensual Gangbang, Consensual Humiliation, Consensual Violence, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Fivesome, Gangbang, Humiliation, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Nude Modeling, Omorashi, Porn Video, Rough Sex, Self-cest, Sexual Tension, Size Kink, Sub Dirk, Sub Jake, Tail Sex, Threesome, Watersports, Wet & Messy, four dirks on a jake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearwinter/pseuds/nuclearwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the prompt drabbles I've done over on tumblr. Will update ships and tags as necessary.</p><p>1. Dirk/Jake - rough play with sub!Dirk (2016-06-29)<br/>2. Davesprite/Karkat - tail fucking (2016-06-29)<br/>3. Dave/Dirk - omorashi (2016-06-29)<br/>4. Dave/Rose - lingerie and body worship (2016-06-29)<br/>5. Dirk/Jake - consensual gangbang w/ bottom Jake (2016-07-02)<br/>6. Dave/Dirk - dirty talk (2016-07-08)<br/>7. Dave/Dirk - breathplay (2016-07-13)<br/>8. Dave/Dave - selfcest and bad raps (2016-07-24)<br/>9. Caliborn/Rose - nude modelling (2016-09-08)<br/>10. Dirk/Jake - pool boy jake and pornstar dirk (2017-01-09)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirk/Jake - rough play with sub!Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [hawesome](http://hawesome.tumblr.com/), who said, "DirkJake rough play with sub!Dirk please."

When Dirk had first asked for this, Jake had kind of worried he wouldn’t be very good at it, or at least that it’d be hard, but it turns out that putting Dirk on the back foot is way more fun than Jake probably should admit.

Right now he’s looking up at Jake with sulky wet eyes, and Jake doesn’t even try to hide his grin as he smears the head of his cock over Dirk’s already messy lips. When Dirk tries to open his mouth for it, Jake moves back and slaps him a few times instead, hard enough that Dirk’s face scrunches, but he doesn’t jerk away.

“What a sight you make,” says Jake, gripping Dirk’s wet chin and digging his fingers in. “Are you really getting your jolly rocks off on this?”

“Uh-huh,” Dirk says, voice rough and thick, blown past the point of monologuing and snark and Jake shivers as he shoves his cock down his throat again.

The wetness in Dirk’s eyes brims over, then, and Jake cups his sticky blotchy face, rubs the tears away, and starts to fuck his throat.

It’s amazing and slick, and it goes heavenly tight when Dirk’s throat heaves and chokes. Jake just grips Dirk’s hair tighter and pushes in harder, sets a punishing rhythm that Dirk has no choice but to accept. Jake can feel his own pleasure swelling intensely, knows he’s panting hard, and swears as fresh tears slide under his thumbs.

The hot tunnel of Dirk’s throat spasms hard, and overwhelming heat spikes through Jake’s guts. Good golly Miss Molly, he nearly loses it into that tight clutching heat—but he wrenches himself back from the edge and pulls out. No time to dally now! There’s still so much he wants to try!

Jake has to squeeze the base of his own dick at the sight of Dirk’s puffy messy mouth as he coughs and splutters, flushed to his chest and dick red and hard between his legs despite being untouched so far.

“Up-a-daisy,” he says, cheerfully, lifting Dirk off his knees and pushing him onto his back on the bed. “Do you need a minute?”

Dirk shakes his head, letting out a shaky breath, and Jake takes the opportunity to pinch his nipples hard. He arches off the bed with a hiss and Jake’s grinning all over again because this shindig hasn’t even gotten _started_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	2. Davesprite/Karkat - tail fucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anon, who said, "This is the anon from earlier. So idk if this works for you but I request davesprite with karkat? No specific themes in mind but wiggly bits lol"
> 
> Now including amazing NSFW art by [Maim](http://freakyhumanshit.tumblr.com)! Holy fuck *fans self*

This is it. You’ve officially lost control of your wretched life. Apparently you still had shit to lose after all: goodbye morals, pride, and the ability to say, no, I’ve never been fucked by a two foot long appendage.

You don’t actually have anywhere near the whole two feet inside you—that might actually kill you, and wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing death in paradox space—but you are on your back with enough of Davesprite’s ultrasmooth neon tail stuffed up your nook that you can barely think.

“More? Less? Help a bro out,” Davesprite says, and you growl and chew his glaringly orange shoulder. “Or, bite me, okay. I’m on hashtag team plumb the depths of this whole cavern, so if you want me to change track you’re gonna have to, ow, fuck.”

He gives you a far better oral-based distraction, and you chirp embarrassingly into his mouth as you feel your nook spread a bit wider. Then you let out a very undignified moan as he pulls the whole length back out with a mortifying squish. You’re shocked how far up his tail your pink geneslime goes.

“Stop fucking around,” you growl. “I know you’re pretty much incapable of following one train of thought to its logical conclusion, so I’ll spell it out for you. Put that thing back in me.”

“Just making sure your spunk is pink for happy reasons,” he says, and winces when you just blink at him. His wings unfold and resettle above the two of you. “I know you’re mad jazzed to impale yourself on my massive trouser snake, but I don’t wanna make you bleed, dude.”

He has _no_ right to be this sweet. You wipe (not hide! You’re not blushing!) your face in his soft ruff. “You don’t wear trousers.”

“Don’t see you complaining,” he says, and then the thin tip of it is flicking at the very edge of your nook again, wriggly and soft and so much like a bulge that it pulls a trill from you and your thighs spread open even further.

“Your auricular sponge clots must be damaged, because I’ve been complaining this entire time,” you say, fighting not to slur your words as his length starts pushing into you again, stretching your already-puffy nook. It stings a little, but in the good way, the way that aches to be rubbed.

“I’m talking body language,” he says, as your nook flutters hard, and it’s so fucking unfair that this isn’t affecting him the way it’s affecting you. If this were his actual bulge, surely he’d be just as overcome. Or maybe you’re just embarrassingly easy.

He pushes in even further than he went last time, nosing at your sweaty bangs, then his length does a slow lazy curl deep inside you and you nearly forget to be careful of your claws as you pant and gasp and clutch at his back.

“Whoa, I think I’m onto something here,” he says, and you squeeze your eyes shut and groan deep and long as he does it again, another half an inch or so shoving up inside you along with the corkscrew motion, spreading your hole wider as it goes. Your groan turns into a series of half-panicked clicks as the ungodly fullness pushes your mostly limp bulge half out of its sheath in a rush. “Oh, hello. Is that a good thing?”

“Munnghh,” you say, eloquently, and your bulge does a weak little curl of its own, with nothing else to twist around. It makes him snicker and you’d whap him but you’re too busy trying not to combust. Your nookjuice is puddling in your asscrack and your bulge is starting to fill and knot into itself and you’re about to start yelling—but then the tapered tip of his tail finds your seedflap and you scream instead.

It’s white-hot sensation, electric sparks as it rubs right _there_ , and then you swear and your thighs tremble as the whole length of him starts curling and rolling and rubbing unbearably against all your sensitive spots—your shame globes, the root of your half-sheathed bulge through the walls of your nook—over and over. You’re so stuffed full that every tiny motion burns heavy and hot and shoves you harder and faster towards orgasm.

Another curl— _in—_ and you’re spread to your limit—your bulge comes sliding all the way out, and sharp heat starts flashing up and down your body—you’re definitely yelling now—

And you fall off the edge into overwhelming pleasure, and you swear, and then you _wail_ as your stupid body tries to squeeze down on the huge length still stuffed up inside you. Your nook clenches and pulses its way through aftershocks that have you crying out over and over again.

When you’re done, exhausted and aching and sticky, the tail slides out of you in an obscene rush of slurry.

You open your eyes to very wide, orange ones blinking back at you from behind neon shades.

“Enjoy the ride?” says Davesprite, and he doesn’t sound anywhere near as ‘chill’ as he probably meant to. You flop your arms around his neck and manage to land a kiss in the vicinity of his mouth. He tries to babble nonsensical alien bullshit about leaving him a five star review on whatever the hell who cares, which motivates you to find his mouth quicker.

When your blood pusher has calmed down a little, maybe you can figure out if you can return the favour.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	3. Dave/Dirk - omorashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anon, who said, "dirkdave, watersports for humiliation? :o thanks for opening up your ask btw! i love your work."

You’re lying in your bed, Dave’s face inches from yours on the pillow. At this distance, you can see the gold threads hidden in the red of his irises. You focus on them and try to ignore the uncomfortable fullness of your bladder.

Somehow you thought it’d be harder to get to this point. When you’re absorbed in a project, you’ve been known to ignore your bladder for an entire day, after all. But you only made it through three movies before you had to call it, and here you are, all too soon at your limit, which is probably pretty obvious to Dave—he’s looking right at your glowing face, and you can feel the warmth of his hand on your hip through your boxer briefs, which means he can definitely feel it when your control slips and you fidget.

You wonder what’s going on in his head.

He’s told you that he doesn’t think you and his ‘Bro’ are the same person, but you can imagine there’s something cathartic about this for him, getting to see an analogue taken down a peg like this.

Huh, wow, what the fuck are you thinking? Framing your brother indulging you in your dirty fantasy as a favour to him: aren’t you a fucking martyr? God, you make yourself sick sometimes—

“Yellow,” you say, because you promised.

“Not even with a ten foot pole,” he intones absently, shuffling back and taking his hand off your hip.

“What?”

“I dunno. Pee, yellow, yellow snow, Weird Al’s Don’t Touch That.”

“That’s actually by Laszlo and Gary,” you correct.

“Same dif,” he says, then under his breath, “don’t touch milk if it’s crunchy,” and you realise your pity party has been completely broken up, all delinquent angsts have absconded into the night. It’s just you and all the empty cups, now. So many empty cups. Oh god.

He’s still giving you space, so you say, “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Cool,” he says, and moves back into your personal bubble. You can smell his shampoo. “I was just thinking, you should totally lie on your back.”

Your belly is actually starting to hurt now, so you just nod and let him rearrange you, your chest tight with nerves. He perches on your thighs, pressure pulling you uncomfortably taut, hands settled on your hips, and looks at your crotch. God, your face is burning.

“You know what,” he says, “this is like waiting for one of those fountain displays, you know the ones? I guess you wouldn’t. You never know when the jets are gonna go off. So you wait and hope it doesn’t happen the minute you give up and wander off to go find some less boring form of free entertainment.”

“Am I boring you?” you ask, squirming a little. Your lower body is throbbing with conflicting needs.

The corner of his lip goes up a fraction and you have to squeeze your eyes shut against a flash of desperation. “Nah,” he says. Then he leans down and kisses you.

You open your mouth for him, suck his tongue in, and for a second your mind is wiped of all other thought—then there’s pressure right over your bladder. You whine into his mouth before you can stop yourself, and he kisses your straining jaw instead.

“It’s actually hard right here,” he murmurs into your neck, massaging your tight stomach.

“Fuck,” you say, and he rubs a little harder through your tank top. Alarms start going off and something in your junk twinges sharply. “Oh shit.”

He sits back again, looks you in the eye, and presses. The way he smiles when you give up a strangled moan only makes everything worse. You’re aching and bloated, you’re so fucking turned on, his eyes on you are turning you inside out with shame, you want—  

“I can’t,” you gasp in an embarrassingly high pitch.

“Come on,” he says, and this time his voice is gentle.

That’s what fucking gets you. You’re doomed. You shiver all over and choke when a spurt of piss leaks out.

“There it is,” says Dave, as your control breaks down in stuttered pulses. He’s just watching you piss the fucking bed, watching you make this big dirty mess, mumbling soft things and rubbing your stomach and fuck, if you cry, you really will die of mortification.

It’s not fucking stopping, and you whine as your boxers start clinging to your oversensitive cock uncomfortably. You can feel it warm and horrible underneath you, soaking through the sheets and into the overlay.

“Holy shit,” says Dave, sounding a little breathless. He’s biting his lip and his eyes are bright and you can’t look at him directly too long. You try to cut off the flow, but your over-sensitised junk burns in protest, and then you’re helpless to it, letting it all go.

You pant and gasp until you’re completely drained in all senses of the word. Dave shifts above you, and you realise with a jolt that you’ve soaked onto him, his crotch and his knees. You’re about to apologise, but you suck in a sharp breath instead—Dave’s hand is coming down gently—gingerly?—over the sodden fabric right above your obvious semi.

“Well, I learned something about myself today,” he says, voice rough, and your cock twitches under his palm. Not ginger, then, just careful—but you grab his wrist anyway, and drag him into a kiss. Your damp crotches slide together and wow, yes, okay. He grins and rolls over with you into the wet spot like it’s no big deal at all.

“Let me blow you,” you say, face burning at the way your boxers stick to your ass, and the clammy friction between your legs.

“I don’t think a worm is kosher,” says Dave, and you thunk your forehead into his thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	4. Dave/Rose - lingerie and body worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [asherinn](http://asherinn.tumblr.com/), who said, "dave and rose, lingerie, body worship?"

“You get off on decking me out in your colour?” Dave grumbles, hiking up his delicate plum thigh-highs in an incongruently inelegant manner.

“It’s interesting that your mind jumps to territorial displays,” you say, settling more fully into the sheets. “I’ll mark that down to discuss later.” You hide a smile at the way he stretches his shoulders and straightens his spine as he checks himself out in your floor length mirror. He’s always like this at first—a little puffed up, like he has to make up for the lace and silk and ribbon somehow. You find it endearing.

He turns to look at you, muscles in his bare chest shifting in a way his usual slouch and baggy clothes don’t show off, and okay, maybe you don’t only find it endearing. Maybe some primitive corner of your lizard brain likes the caveman thing.

“Are you kidding? You’re territorial like a fucking cat, except instead of rubbing nasty hair all over everything, you cover it in purple yarn.”

There’s that swagger in his walk as he comes over, and you feel heat bloom between your legs. You chose well. He’s wearing one of your spare pairs of the same panties you are currently have on: low-cut bikini-briefs made entirely of soft purple lace. The black bow on the front looks a lot more interesting on him, however, sitting so demurely above that bulge.

(Huh. Contact with the trolls has apparently ruined that word for you. You make a mental note to research more erotic synonyms.)

Higher on his narrow waist sits a matching garter belt, a band of more purple lace decorated with strips of the same black ribbon, which lead into flashes that hold up lace-topped plum stockings. You’re wearing the bra from the set, but you are thoroughly enjoying what the stockings are doing for his legs. As he is now within touching distance, you don’t resist the urge to slip your finger under a strap.

“As opposed to you, who covers everything with dicks?” you say, sliding your finger up under the strap and under the flap of the garter belt, til the back of your knuckle is brushing the hard line of his cock tucked up inside the panties along that side. His breath catches beautifully, giving you time to add, “Besides, I might not let you keep wearing my things if you can’t even tell the difference between lace and yarn.”

“Well, shit,” he says, just as you roll the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, and you smirk at the squeak in his voice. “Uh, guess you better punish me for my blunder or whatever.”

“We don’t punish ignorance,” you say. “We teach appreciation.”

“I take it you’re inviting me to get up close and personal with your panties?”

“You’re wearing them, how much closer can you get?” you ask, then you make an indelicate sound as he bounces the mattress climbing onto you.

“I could show you,” he says, pressing a kiss below your navel. You lift his frames away from his face and put them on your bedside table, because he’s a dork, and spread your knees so he can settle in. Then you shut your mouth, because you’re tied in the stupid noises championship sport event and you’re not about to let him steal the pigskin.

“Yeah, I gotta show you…” he mumbles against your skin, and then you can’t understand him any more.

His hand slides up your bare thigh and toys with the elastic at your hip, and he mouths you through your panties. You feel yourself getting wetter—the fabric slides stickily with his ministrations—and if he flicked his tongue out he could probably taste you—but he moves back instead, kisses the insides of one thigh while stroking the other. Perhaps he is trying to tease you, but really, you just feel a warm kind of satisfaction settle in your belly.

He sits up, then, between your legs, and arranges your thighs around him. His own stockinged legs stretch out gracefully on either side of you, and you shiver at the silky brushes along your hips and sides as he pulls one of your legs up and kisses the inside of your knee. As much as you enjoy his puffing and swaggering, this is your favourite part of this—the part where he gets comfortable, lets himself experiment with his body language—the part where it’s so obvious he feels sexy and smooth.

“Feeling all the appreciation I got going on?” he says, and you give him a lidded look. “What about now?” You suck in a breath as he starts working the arch of your foot with his thumbs. It feels amazing, and you are kind of miffed. Where on earth did he learn to do this? Why are you only finding out about it now?

He huffs a Strider-laugh when you nudge his shoulder with your other foot, and then he grabs and works on that one too, thumbs pressing and rolling in a way that’s turning you to jelly. Your crotches are pressed together now and you can feel how hard he is, but he makes no move to grind against you or touch himself.

"Purple signifies devotion,” you say, slow and warm, and it’s true, you read that in your bedside dream dictionary when you were thirteen. 

“Purple signifies the gay teletubby,” he says, surprising a snort out of you, and then his hands let your thighs sink back down as they move up your body instead, rubbing your stomach in big sweeps until you sigh, then pushing up underneath your bra.

You fold your arms under your head and push your breasts up into his hands. He has broad, calloused palms, and they are electric against your hardening nipples. He rubs and massages you in the same strong, measured circles.

When his hands slide from under your bra and back down your body, you are warm and throbbing between your legs, more than ready for him to shift his silky knees back between your thighs as he kneels down to bury his face there.

“Oh,” you say, as he pulls your panties to the side, and “hmmmm,” as he sucks at the outside of your pussy.

He comes back up, and his chin is wet. “You sound like you’re the hostess of a dinner party who took one for the team and seated yourself next to the guy who owns a glue factory and now you have to hear anecdote after anecdote about the orphans working the—”

“Dave,” you say, unhooking your bra. It has the desired effect.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, and puts his mouth to a better use.

He takes his time, sucking one side of you, and then the other, before pushing his tongue between your folds and finding your swollen clit. You start to pant a little—he holds your thighs open firmly and hums around your clit and you moan—he moans back. God, and the view from here is excellent—the band of the garter belt across his lower back, and the panties riding high on his ass…

You breathe deeply and close your eyes and let the strong rolling circles of his tongue in that perfect spot drag you over the edge and into bright, clenching pleasure. You pant and shake as he works you through it and maybe you moan his name like an utter cliche, but nobody has to know but him.

He pulls away just when it’s nearly too much, and rests his head on your thigh while you catch your breath.

“Good?” he asks, sweaty and rumpled, and you flail into a sitting position and get him in close.

“Amazing,” you say. “I feel thoroughly ravished.”

He hisses as you grab his cock and pull it out of the panties, and you admire it for a second, hard and red and framed by purple lace on all sides—but then you tug the lace back over the head and you do something that makes him swear, dirty and hot in your ear.

Between your spit and his precome you soon have him shoving nearly helplessly into your hand, making choked little noises and squeezing his eyes shut when the head of his cock drags against the fabric at the end of each stroke. You watch the flush crawl down his chest, his belly jumping and tensing under the garter belt, and you kiss his temple and let him babble into your shoulder as he pants and jerks and comes in hot pulses into your panties.

Dave in purple makes you think of the bright spark of a dance party on the worst day of your life, of flying together in the dark, of his presence beside you in the bowels of that moon.

You’d be terrified of how bottomless your love is for him, if you weren’t so utterly sure he is right there with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	5. Dirk/Jake - consensual gangbang w/ bottom Jake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anon, who said, "R u still doing these? I love your stories eeee. Could you do dirkjake Jake getting rekt??"
> 
> Eternal thanks to [Mina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VoodooRadio) for the beta job on my 1am mess!

If you’d known about the dream bubbles beforehand, you think you would have expected to find the inertia of death infuriating. You would have expected you’d try to string together some kind of team, some kind of plan to get yourself back onto the board where some other Dirk Strider lacking the perspective you now have is probably fucking everything up already.

You would not have expected to find yourself balls deep in the ass of your childhood crush while he serviced three other guys. You’re really glad you’re a vain asshole, because the three other guys are all you and helping Jake achieve his libidinous dreams is not quite martyring yourself here.

The Dirk taking Jake’s mouth in front of you is clearly giving you the stink eye, though, so maybe he doesn’t quite feel the same about dudes in styling shades. Well, sucks to be that guy. You get your hand on Jake’s dick, because at least one of you is going to have to make sure this orgy train stays on the rails.

Jake moans gratifyingly around the cock in his mouth and arches his back against the chunk of palette-swapped stonehenge or whatever it is he’s spread out on. Honestly, you haven’t paid much attention to the decor in this bubble. You’ve already got plenty to look at—Jake’s puffy red asshole stretching to swallow your dick, the wet mess of lube that glistens as you push in, the way the angle you’re pushing his thighs out makes the muscle of his ass pull tight; okay, so you’re kind of hung up on his ass. You doubt any of the other dudes here are going to judge you.

You’re the second guy to have taken him, and he’s open and wet and so, so easy, you just want—

“Go on,” says the Dirk standing on your left. He has Jake’s hand curled under his own fist and is jacking off with it. “He wants you to go harder. Trust me, he can’t keep any secrets from me.”

“Ugh,” groans the Dirk in front of you, as Jake squeezes like a vice around you. Oh shit. “I fucking hate the obnoxious way you talk. Apparently not even death lets me escape my own putrid personality.”

You have no idea how he can be such a fucking whiner when he has his dick down Jake’s throat, but whatever. You’re pretty sure nothing short of candyland exploding on that guy’s head could cheer him up, and maybe not even that.

“Bro, I’m just telling it like it is. I pretty much am his brain. Oh shit, Jake, that’s good.”

“Yeah, well, ask him anyway,” mutters the Dirk sitting to your right. He has his back to the stone and Jake’s hand in his lap. 

This guy isn’t any more chill than the guy in front of you, but he seems less whiny and more ‘I’ve seen Armageddon, and not the Bruce Willis movie’, so you cut him more slack in your mind. Besides, he’s already come once, you know how that knocks you out.

“Hey, Jake, would you like me to go harder?”

Jake pulls his left hand away easily and gives you a sticky finger-pistol. Well, then. You let go of his dick and hook your thumbs behind his knees, pull out nearly all the way, and then you snap your hips in hard. Jake gags obscenely around the cock down his throat, but his hand is grasping eagerly back at the guy to your left, so you do it again.

It feels so good, so slick and hot and tight, and you curl over him and let go. Jake is making constant sounds, a long punched-out moan choked around a dick. But you don’t open your eyes until his legs jump under your hands, and when you do, you see fingers on Jake’s nipples—the Dirk to your right has turned around. The way Jake is jerking and arching under his ministrations is threatening to short-circuit your brain, and you realise you are panting hard.

Then the guy in front of you swears sharply, and through your own haze of pleasure you watch his jaw clench shut as he comes. Intense heat spikes through you, driving you right to the edge, but you can't… This might be the first time you’ve ever done this in your life, but that’s no excuse, you have to make this good…

Jake coughs and heaves, and you barely catch the sight of the last of the other Dirk’s come still shooting out onto his chin before you have to shut your eyes and rein in your control. Your muscles are screaming and your guts are tight and your balls are fucking aching, but you lock that shit down hard.

Now that Jake’s mouth is unimpeded, though, he’s moaning so much louder, and the thick roughness in his voice as he _begs_ hits you with all the deadly precision of a poison arrow to the heel.

You curl down tighter and gasp and come, driving deep into his ass. You keep on gasping as your load just keeps fucking coming, pulse after pulse, mind wiped but for _Jake, Jake, Jake_.

It gets too intense, and you groan and fail to catch your breath as Jake’s asshole pushes your softening cock out.

“Move off, you’re squashing him,” says the guy on your left, and you realise he’s right, you have Jake bent in half under your weight.

“Sorry,” you manage. You feel so heavy and tired, you can barely fumble your smeared shades off and shuffle around to Jake’s head before you collapse onto your knees. You had no idea how overwhelming this would be in real life. “Can I kiss you?”

Jake’s face is a mess, his lips red and puffy and his chin covered in various bodily fluids. He opens his flat white eyes and smiles at you.

“Land one on me,” he says, and you hold his shoulders before he can twist around and give him the cheesiest Spiderman kiss you can manage. You hope it’s getting his dorky little heart a-flutter, even if it is a sloppier makeout than you had been planning.

The Dirk next to you (the one whose come you are kind of licking out of Jake’s mouth here) starts murmuring weird, needy things into Jake’s shoulder right near your face, and you’d be embarrassed but you’re honestly too wiped. You let the kiss break, and nuzzle into the other side to lick Jake’s ear instead.

Jake whines, high and loud, and you slide your hand up over his chest, find a free nipple. Then Jake jerks hard with a particularly cornball swear, and you realise why his chest is free now—that guy is now between Jake’s legs, and he seems to have a few fingers inside.

“He’s so wet inside, isn’t he?” says the guy still standing to the side. He’s jacking his dick furiously. “Wet and loose. You could probably fit your whole fist in there.”

You can feel Jake’s moan in your fucking teeth. You rub his belly, his nipples, anything you can reach. You bump into some other sets of hands on the way. Guess all of you having the same idea at once is a pretty foregone conclusion.

Jacking-off guy is still spouting horny bullshit when he comes, talking the whole way through about Jake’s wrecked asshole as ropes of his sticky come land on Jake’s belly and your hands. You rub it into Jake’s skin, which makes him squeak and groan. Or maybe whatever the guy between his legs is doing is causing that? You, your ping is over 9000 and you are lagging hard.

You barely register it when the guy who just came drops to his knees and starts milking Jake’s cock—Jake is making the best sounds right in your ear and you have to kiss his sweaty shoulder a lot of times and tell him he’s such a cool guy, he’s so fucking badass.

You feel his breaths getting shorter and his body tense further and further, and you open your eyes just in time to watch him paint his own stomach with come.

He’s an absolute mess, wet and sticky from chin to taint, shuddering and making an amazing wrung-out sound. Then he screams as the guy between his legs pushes his cock inside.

“Just a little more, sweetheart,” he says, and you press your red face into Jake’s skin. Why are you all so lame? Well, it seems despite that, Jake likes you a lot. You’ve got some pretty hard data showing that he likes you enough for quadruple doses, at least on the rare occasion.

“Yes, yes, Dirk,” Jake moans, and then that Dirk is folding Jake in half again to kiss him, right by your faces.

Your body is rocked by their fucking, and when you finally hear Dirk make that familiar gasp and lose it, you feel the release in your own guts. 

You rest in a sweaty ungainly pile for a long, sticky moment. Then you leave your noodly Jake in the arms of one of the other guys and heave yourself up to ghost-magic yourself and your shades clean, and dream up some clothes. From the corner of your eye you can see two of the other guys doing the same.

“Finished wallowing in your glorious depravity?” the last naked Dirk is saying to Jake.

“It’s only a thing if my brain wants it to be, right?” Jake says in his fucked-out voice, and pulls that Dirk in for what could only accurately be described as a motherfucking smooch. Swoon.

Then they’re both in god tier garb (your face does not even twitch, you are a badass man of steel, yes you are), and Jake goes bouncing over to the other Dirk in godawful maroon.

“Thanks for the ripping good time, chums!” he says. “That was just what the doctor ordered. Well, hate to pash and dash, but we really should be going. Come on now, Dirk! Let’s go find where our girls have got to.”

His Dirk nods, and gives him a hideously sappy smile.

Jake turns to the sadsack Dirk, who is broadcasting his anxiety like a chump. “Don’t worry so much! I don’t know exactly how these bubble-things work, but I am sure it will all turn out in the end.”

“He probably doesn’t want to see me.”

“Climb that mountain when you get to it! I’ll tell you though, I know for a fact he was sitting there with a bosom of regrets of his own. And hey,” he says, turning to you, “I don’t think I ever told you… thank you, for what you did. I don’t think I quite appreciated what you’d done at the time. You gave your life for me.”

“I didn’t really,” you say, suddenly weirdly shy, what the fuck. You’re so much cooler than this. But you didn’t, you were so sure you’d be revived. You were absolutely crushed when you woke up as a ghost, at least until the troll lady with the red butterfly wings gave you the lowdown. “It’s not like I’d kill myself on purpose.”

The quietest Dirk turns away abruptly, and Jake puts an arm around his shoulder. “Well, thank you anyway,” Jake says, warmly, and then his face turns from yours. “You coming?”

The last Dirk shrugs. “I dunno, I might hang out with these guys for a while. Hah, yeah, we might just do that. Nice idea, bro.”

Jake colours. Do what? “Well,” he says with a cough, “have… fun! Boy howdy. Maybe I could just…”

“Jane might have found Roxy,” the Dirk by his side says, and Jake’s spine straightens. You can practically hear the ‘ping’. He is so, so adorable in real life.

…Death? Well, you’re having more fun here than you ever did trapped in the middle of the ocean. You can’t exactly work up a melancholy. Maybe you’ll meet a Jake on the same footing as you, and you can have your own chance. You’re sure you won’t fuck it up like these chumps, especially if you can manage to get some advice on how to deal with human beings. Oh, maybe you’ll get to meet Roxy in the flesh! And Jane! And… maybe your teen Bro, though you’re sure he couldn’t have died as many times as you apparently have. You can’t get your hopes up. First you should probably help this sadsack find his dude.

“You’re absolutely right,” says Jake. “Well, goodbye! Good luck!”

“Yeah,” you say, memorising his face. “You too.”

The other guys come to stand by you while you watch them walk away.

“Hate to see him go, but I love to watch him leave,” says one. “You dig? Of course you do, you’re me.”

“This is hell,” says the other.

“All right,” you say, “we have a clear objective, let’s figure out a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	6. Dave/Dirk - dirty talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anon, who said, "guess who!! i am here to spam you with dirkdave requests :3c i have so many ideas i don't know which to send you first, but i'll just go with an all time favorite... dirty talk. either face-to-face or through texting/chat or whatever you feel like writing!"

Dirk has discovered that Dave has two modes when he’s the one taking it—cheesy horrendous dirty talk and ironic exaggerated arching and wiggling, which is somehow stupidly hot, and quiet lip biting and hiding his face, which is also stupidly hot. He hasn’t quite worked out what the trigger points are, but he’s working on a hypothesis.

“Fuck yeah,” Dave hisses facedown into the pillow he’s clutching to his chest. “Get that whole thing all up in there.”

Dirk spreads Dave’s ass a little wider with one hand, teasing the head of his dick against his rim with the other. “This whole thing?”

Dave’s spine dips sinfully and the head of Dirk’s cock pops in, nearly against his own control. “Yeah, that big hefty packa-a-age, oh fuck yes. Deliver that right into the slot.”

“I’m not sure it’s gonna fit through the slot, since it’s such a big package and all,” Dirk says, as deadpan as he possibly can with Dave squeezing like that.

“Ring the bell then, Mister Postman, I’ll open right the fuck up.”

“Is the bell your dick, or your prostate?” Dirk is pretty sure if he pushed he could bottom out anyway, but sometimes these tangents are Dave babbling without a filter on, and sometimes they’re Dave coming flip-turnways at something he wants.

“The bell is my heart, of course, you fuckin’ insensitive ape.”

Hm. Dave’s hips tilt up even higher, what the fuck is his spine even made of, and Dirk slides in balls deep. “Then what’s in the package?” he gasps, against his better judgement.

“I’m hoping one big serving of fresh hot cream,” Dave says.

“That’s fucking nasty,” says Dirk. “Hang on.” He pulls out entirely and grabs for the lube. Dave abandons the pillow and rolls onto his back then, face flushed and nipples hard and hair curling dark and damp on his forehead. A hand smooths lazily down his stomach and towards—fuck, oops, ok, Dirk grabs his cock before his sudden giant handful of lube goes everywhere.

“Maybe I like it nasty,” says Dave, spreading his legs. Dirk pulls at his own cock as efficiently as possible, trying not to stoke the embers of pleasure already burning in his guts. His super slick hand isn’t helping. Neither is the view.

Well, he can test that hypothesis, now. He cuts off his supremely unsexy instinctive comeback ( _Salmonella-nasty?_ ) and shuffles backwards off the bed instead, swiping the pillow on the way.

“I’ll show you nasty,” he says, dragging Dave to the edge of the bed by the hips. “I’ll show you downright indecent.”

“Oh yeah?” Dave’s bare eyes are bright and his chest is jumping with quick breaths. Dirk pushes Dave’s legs back til he’s nearly bent in half, and stuffs the pillow under Dave’s hips. “You gonna pipe my donut full of vanilla creme?”

“Mm,” says Dirk, grinding his hips between Dave’s legs, which jump a little under his hands. “Gonna take my nozzle,” he starts, trying not to smile at the delighted look on Dave’s face, “and I’m gonna push it in so slow you’ll feel every fraction of every inch spreading you wide. And then I’ll stop, let you appreciate how far your asshole is stretched. Hey, hold your legs up.”

“Oh fuck,” says Dave, snapping to comply. “Are you seriously dirty talking me right now? No, no, I’m shutting up, oh my god.”

Dirk lets himself smile, then. He rubs the head of his cock around Dave’s rim. “You like me talking about your asshole?”

“Ahh…”

Dirk pushes just enough that Dave’s ass starts to open up to him. It’s hot and slick and it clenches against his sensitive head.

“There we go, that’s beautiful. So I’ll have you all tight and amazing on my dick, and you’ll wanna clench up, but you’re not going to. You’re going to breathe and relax, loose and open and ready for me. And I’m gonna slide in deep, like you like.”

Dirk doesn’t, though. He pushes in just enough that the flare of his cockhead pops inside Dave’s rim, then pulls it back slowly, watching the way Dave’s asshole flutters and fights to suck him back in.

“You feel how hot my dick is?” Dave makes a little _haah_ sound. “It’s gonna feel so good deep inside you.” Dave’s hole gives up and squeezes him back out again with a dribble of lube. “And you’re gonna make me feel so good too, god, I can never get enough of you.”

Dave is whining a little now, face burning red. “Fuck, bro.”

“But I’m not going to do you like that for long,” Dirk continues, and he pushes just the tip back in, spreading Dave’s rim, feeling his body fighting on the edge of pulling him in again and pushing him out. “I’m going to find that spot that makes you leak, and I’m going to nail it til you’re making those beautiful faces. Yeah, you do, don’t hide.” The frantic clenching is sending spikes of pleasure through him, and his hips are aching to just let go, but. 

“You’re so fucking hot. Can you relax for me?” he asks, bending over Dave. He kisses the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his bitten lips, tightly scrunched face, until Dave hitches a sob.

“Y-yeah…”

“You’re perfect, you feel so good, oh f-fuck,” Dirk groans, as Dave moans the loudest he has all evening and his body gives in. “Now, you want me to tell you what I’m gonna do with my vanilla creme?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	7. Dave/Dirk - breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anon, who said, "If you are still taking drabble requests, how would you feel about some Dave/Dirk breathplay for an anon who is still too shy to come off anon? **sweats** I really love your writing!!!"
> 
> Content warning for elements of Dirk's cavalier (and eroticised) attitude towards his own potential death.

The longer you spend time around other humans, the closer you get to accepting the inevitability of awkward fuckery. Dave is pretty helpful here; extended exposure to his blundering into social tar pits like a particularly gauche mammoth is something like immersion therapy. It also means you've both got a lot of practice dealing with the other bro getting egg on his face, and now that it's your turn to be utterly humiliated, you're expecting he'll either spin a long comedic gibe to lighten the mood, or else pretend he hasn't noticed and let the both of you Strider it through.

Instead, he gets worried and serious, hovering by your side while you dig your thumbs under your ears, trying to loosen up your face.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, gimme a minute," you grit out through your teeth. Literally—your jaw is locked shut. Why does this happen to you? Why did it have to fucking happen now?

"Damn," he says, while you try to work a knuckle between your teeth, forgoing all attempts at smoothness. All the boners in the room are already dead anyway. It'd been going pretty well, too; he'd had your legs over his shoulders and his cock driving into you at the perfect angle, and the building full-body pleasure was melting you inside out, and you'd thought maybe finally this time you could come just like that, without touching your dick, and you'd arched, and you'd focused, and you'd _reached_ —

And then it turns out, despite previous threats to the contrary, Dave actually won't fuck you with your jaw wired shut.

You grunt at him in lieu of a better reply, for what you hope are obvious reasons.

"Damn," he repeats. "I am actually not surprised that this happened. Do you know you do this sometimes when we get it on? Like, hold your breath and go ridiculously rigid?" Something a little sour curls in your stomach at that, but it disappears when he continues, "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's really fucking hot watching you get… caught up like… yeah. But it doesn't look all that comfortable."

You finally manage to work your mouth unstuck. "It's easier for me to get off that way," you say, rubbing the vague ache out of your muscles and resisting the temptation to crack the joint.

"Why can't you just relax and let it happen? Fuck, what am I saying, I forgot who I'm talking to for a second. Haha, ow, fuck, not the ribs. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," you say. "But I think it's likely to happen again if we continue in that way."

"We can switch it up—"

"No," you cut in. "I was so close, I… um." Well, he knows about your goal.

"Hm. Well, why does holding your breath help?"

"I guess everything feels more intense. Sharper? It's easier to focus on the things you're making me feel." May as well lay it on. You're still hoping you can salvage the mood.

Right on target, Dave goes a little pink. "You ever thought about doing… actual breath stuff?" Wait, what? Your surprise must have registered on your face, because he rushes to continue. "You know, like, where someone else does it to you."

"No," you say, slowly. But the way he's not quite looking at you is making your brain whirr. "I'm not particularly against it, though."

His thumbs run restlessly over his own anklebones. He's perched naked on your mattress, long limbs folded with the strange grace he has, beautiful and nervous and god, he makes you think the most embarrassing things.

"It's pretty dangerous," he says, evenly.

"I doubt erotic asphyxiation is just or heroic," you say.

His mouth twitches up, and because he's your brother, after all, he adds, "I dunno, dying in the name of me getting to nut might be pretty heroic."

"And if it is, it isn't like you don't literally have the power to rewind bad decisions."

"You… really want me to?"

You have probably not discussed this enough. Your returning boner doesn't seem to care, and—you check—neither does Dave's, oh fuck.

You nod.

He shuffles over, eyes sort of unreadable, and it makes your pulse quicken. When you slide together, half of your mind is still crawling over this new information; has he always been into this? What about it does it for him? Has he done it before? Or is it something specifically… hahhh okay, the percentage of your mind able to focus on that dwindles, his mouth is just so…

There's a click, the lube bottle, then there's—ah, yeah, it stings a little, but you know it'll fade once he—there you go. He holds your leg up and pushes his cock back inside you, slowly, letting you readjust, then shifts his hips, rubbing the head of his cock into your insides, watching your face. You know what he's doing, and you make sure you let yourself hum when he finds what he's looking for. It makes him laugh a little, and you huff back, a little self-consciously. It's always like this at first—the reality of being on your back, your legs in the air, a hot cock inside you, your leverage reduced to feedback all leaves you a little awkward. But, Dave's stroke is steady, and soon your clumsiness is melting away into warmth that floods through your whole body, gooey pleasure you can't grasp the reins on.

You're both panting, rocking together, when he groans, "Feels good?"

"Yeah," you gasp, "I'm getting there." Your junk aches, and you think—if you just bore down and—no. There's a different iron in the fire now, and you find yourself burning hot with anticipation.

He bends down over you, then, folding you in half, and you let out a high pitched _yeah_ that you're not proud of. You don't have time to dwell, though.

"Do you still need…?" His hips are grinding in guilty little movements, like he wants to pause but can't quite, and it's hard to string words together to answer him.

"Yeah, yeah, come on."

He slows his hips even further, and then his hand comes down over your mouth. You lick his hand, and he bites your knee in retaliation. You feel your heart start pounding in your throat when he shifts his thumb to trap your nose, too, and oh, shit…

His eyes say, _are you really, really sure?_   You've had enough of trying to speak through impediments tonight, so you just grab his wrist and squeeze, trusting whatever your eyes are saying back will be enough.

It must be, because he cinches his hand tight and starts fucking you again.

In no time at all the intensity is winding up into that floating feeling, tethered by the uncomfortable way you're bent and plugged. Fifteen seconds and you're working uselessly for air, shaking with the way he's railing you. Twenty and he lets you go. You make a strangled sound at the sudden piercing rush of pleasure that comes with your desperate drag of oxygen, nearly pushing you to the edge, and he makes a shaky noise back.

"Is it okay? Is it good?" he says, voice jumping with his own thrusts, and you squeeze his wrist again—you never let go.

"More," you say, and then you have to shut up and suck in a deep breath because he's clamping down over your mouth and nose again.

The way he's gripping your face means you can't bite down, but your muscles tense up anyway, and you feel yourself start to tremble from the effort as your head goes light and your junk leaks and throbs. You feel like without his solid hot presence above you, all around you, inside you, you might vibrate, evaporate into nothing.

He's babbling something, but you can't parse it at all. Then his other hand comes to rest over your sensitive unscarred throat, and you are done.

It's more than the way you can feel your blood throbbing and rushing, it's more than the way your muscles are jerking and trembling. It's more than the sucking wave of arousal threatening to smash you under. It's—it's your life in his hands, it's—trust that goes beyond anything you could ever say, not with all the words in your overstuffed, pretentious vocabulary—this is why you don't need to talk about it—the knowledge that you would be content with whatever he chose, to make you come or let you slip away, is huge as a skyscraper and sharp as a sword.

He already knew—but now it's like you've bent open your ribs to show him your gory heart—it's so fucked up, you're so fucked up—but he—

Your world narrows and warps, blind static, your entire shaking being centred somewhere in your gut, and then it _wrenches_ —

And just as you heave uselessly and start to come—

Air rushes into your lungs, fanning the fire of your orgasm so high it nearly scares you, and overwhelmed and clutching at Dave, you empty your balls in long, heavy spurts and sob, lungs burning.

You barely register Dave's cock slipping out of you, but you do feel him shaking against you, and you kiss his face, let him clutch you right back, until the both of you calm down.

You manage to glean from his post-coital rambling most of the answers to the things you’d been wondering. It makes you smile in a way that has him start trying to smother you with a pillow. You debate pointing out what a hilariously ironic choice of action that is, considering, but you don’t want to open yourself up to observations on how much you jizzed over Dave’s choices of action, thank you, so you kiss him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	8. Dave/Dave - selfcest and bad raps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [rogueofrojak](http://rogueofrojak.tumblr.com/), who said, "Hi there! Thanks for the link from A03, I really like your fic and look forwards to reading more from you :) In case your requests are still open, any chance of some Dave on Dave action (or multiple Daves, idk)? Bonus points if any of them starts rapping (poorly) at any point."
> 
> Huge thanks to Mina for the cheerleading, music providing, and rap inspiration.
> 
> POV can be any Dave ship of your choice, or just you as the reader!

The image on the screen fades in from black with a throbbing synth beat to show Dave sitting on the bed. He’s wearing a robe that you can probably bet is red, but you can’t know for sure, because the video is an artistic monochrome. 

It fades to black on the beat, and then fades in again on the next one, and there’s another berobed Dave posing by the bed. 

Another beat, it fades out to black, and then, beat, in again to a closeup of a robe falling down a shoulder. 

Then (beat) it fades back out to black and (beat) in on the curtain blowing in the wind and you really hope every single transition isn’t going to be like this because you’re starting to understand why this thing had an epilepsy warning on the jacket (and a choking hazard warning, and a do not tumble dry warning, all lovingly recreated by hand).

You should be careful what you wish for, because the next transition is the screen bursting into a star wipe. Thankfully, it seems within the admittedly glamorous angles of the star Dave and Dave have started to get it on. They’re posing with their robes all pooled over their suggestively tangled legs, anyway.

It zooms in shakily on their faces as they lean in close and press their mouths together. Then the shot thankfully holds, capturing the smooth, dreamlike way their mouths meet and part, slide and turn, press and catch, like mirrors blooming into fractals. The beat pulses faster as their hands slide under the robes, and the camera follows the silky dark material as it flows off the edge of the bed and puddles on the floor. The sensual image is literally shattered as the scene transitions with a dissolve wipe.

You can’t exactly be mad; you knew what you were getting into when you saw the title of this thing was _Dave on Dave: The Many Faces Of Me_. You’re also not mad because finally, finally, the camera is settled on the two naked guys on the bed, and they are definitely not posing artistically.

One of them is sliding down, and he may be playing up the dip of his spine and the tilt of his shoulders, but, goddamnit, he knows what works for him. You get a closeup of fingers in his pale hair, which tracks down to catch the moment his mouth opens up for the head of his double’s cock.

The fingers in his hair pull the shades off his face, and you watch his eyes sweep up to glare at someone off camera for a split second, mouth stretched and full, before closing as he gets down to business. It seems, though, that the director of this cinematic masterpiece knows exactly what’s important about extended blowjob scenes, and the camera sweeps up the stretched out body of the Dave lying on his back, and lingers on his face.

There’s a really wonky transition-less cut and suddenly he’s missing his shades and his hair is a lot more dishevelled. You get the long drawn out moment as his brow slowly crinkles, and his cheeks flush. His mouth opens on a moan that’s nearly drowned out by the stuttering of the bass, and the view pulls out to show the way his knees are now bent up and out. You watch a hand catch his calf, guide it over a dropped shoulder. You catch glimpses of what’s happening between their bodies, and then both of them suddenly look up, nearly into the camera, and you get a quick view of knuckles pressed up between Dave’s legs—two fingers buried inside?  

You don’t have enough time to make sure: another jarring jump cut to the bedside table in sharp focus, the boys on the bed a blurry silhouette. They fritz into wobbly relief, and then the camera zooms in on them comically fast. This time, Dave’s hips are tilted and his legs are spread properly in a way that puts everything on display, and the other Dave is sucking him at an angle that lets you see exactly how deep he’s taking him. Not to mention, the three fingers he now has working slowly in and out of his ass.

The aesthetic black and white filter means you can’t see exactly how pink and puffy his rim must be getting, but you can imagine it all too well. His cock slides out of his double’s mouth and bobs against his stomach, and then you get a burst of nine star wipes attacking your eyeballs. Behind that visual assault is a front-on view of one Dave, on his hands and knees, the other kneeling behind him. You get to see both their faces twist in identical pleasure as one slides his cock into the other.

Then the view jangles and swoops and hits the bedside table with a loud crunch. It tilts with another horrifying scrape until it’s got a clear shot of the whole bed, and then another Dave stands in front of the camera, stripping off his raglan shirt and skinny jeans and underwear.

“What are you doing,” says the Dave on his hands and knees. You can hear his frustrated groan clearly over the music, and you thrill a little at the obvious break in his chill.

“Eh, we can fix it in post.”

The cameraman climbs up onto the bed and gets back in front of them. The Dave who is now face-to-face with his cock makes a barely audible whine.

“Nah, leave it in,” says the other Dave, hips moving again. “Adds to the realness. Real amateur twinks slutting it up on cam, authenticity is the lure.”

Then you’re suddenly looking at a top down view of Dave sucking himself off, his double plastered to his back, whispering things into his ear that you can’t hear over the music. You watch the Dave on top go harder, get more desperate, press in tighter to his twin. You watch the Dave sucking dick flush and gag, you see a hand come down from above to smooth his hair back, and a hand from behind him stroke up under his chin. You hear a staticy huff from close to the mic, and then you watch the cock slide out of his mouth, the string of drool and come connecting them thick enough that even this crappy camera picks it up. 

The Dave with the sticky mouth is panting like he’s about to come, mouth open, eyes squeezed tight, and the bass builds like it’s about to drop, and then it jump cuts again and you are treated to a shot of him now turned on his side, still spread open on a cock, being jacked from behind. He tenses and arches himself harder and comes, spilling come all over his double’s hand.

The camera moves closer to the bed, zooms in on where the cock is still pumping in and out of his asshole. The music pumps too, synth sounds glittering, building and building. 

“Whoa,” says the voice right by the camera, startlingly loud. The other two Daves moan back at him, and this time, the camera stays steady on the pair of them as they get more frantic, fingers tangling and identical bodies moving together like they were made for each other, and then a jarringly normal transition, and you’re seeing come landing all over Dave’s ass in thick patters.

The camera then gives you a lingering shot of the two of them wrapped around each other, long limbs tangled, sweaty and exhausted.

Then you are treated to a bow tie wipe that reveals a blue screen, and credits in segoe print start scrolling: Writing - Dave Strider. Direction - Dave Strider. Camera - Dave Strider. Dave Strider 1 - Dave Strider. Dave Strider 2 - Dave Strider. You get the picture.

Then a little window of the three of them lying naked on the bed and holding up the camera starts playing. And you hear beatboxing.

“One two three, what up, it’s fucking me fucking me.”

(“FUCKNG ME!”)

“Blowin’ ya mind not motherfucking stealthful, if that’s a crime then consider me guil… ty, of insane ill-ty, don’t need to save your appetite… til tea.”

(“WHAT!”)

“We’re motherfucking wealthful, so dig right in, get masticatin’, slobber all over our fornication, chew these beets while we’re masturbating, that’s motherfucking healthful.”

Then you are staring at a truly inspiring illustration of Sweet Bro’s leer plastered with the caption AND NOW YOU ARE BANGING YOU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you survived that, you're welcome to pop by my [tumblr](http://nuclearwinternsfw.tumblr.com/)! (Warning: NSFW)


	9. Caliborn/Rose - nude modelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [elendraug](http://elendraug.tumblr.com/), who said, "okay okay here goes: caliborn/rose, with her pulling the same armchair psychoanalytic bullshit on him that she does with dave"

"Is this acceptable?" Rose asks, leaning her elbow more fully onto her propped up knee. She's arranged on a lounge, a bowl of fruit by her naked hip. 

Her spectator gives an explosive little grunt and hunches further over his sketchpad. "It will have to do. Now don't move. You'll interrupt my process." 

"Not to worry," she says, breathing slowly so that her bare chest doesn't move too much. She feels languid and warm, though, and not inclined to move anyway. This is turning out to be quite the experience. "I am perfectly comfortable. Take as long as you like. I do have to ask, though. Why the fruit?" 

"It's a study. True artists use fruit in studies. It's totally a thing."

"I see. Let me know if you need me to move it, though. I was under the impression that this was an anatomy study." 

"Thanks for your concern. But leave the art thoughts to me. The artist." He makes a bold stroke on the paper, then furiously erases it. 

"I will admit, I'm not usually on this side of the couch. It's a new experience." 

"And I don't usually have models for my art. Thank you. For assisting me with my learning."

"You know, I'm sure my brother would love to model for you sometime. He's rather in love with his own face, and something of an artist himself. At least… artist-adjacent." 

"Uh." Caliborn makes several short, scratchy movements on the paper. "I am currently focusing. On hot bimbos." 

"I will take that as a compliment." 

"I meant the females I draw will be hot. Based on your body." His eyes flick very obviously to her breasts, and it's very hard for Rose not to smile. 

"Of course." 

"Not that. I wouldn't want to practice other bodies. I've been putting in a lot of effort to expand my skillset. So uh. If you hear that he wants to come get naked with me." 

"With you?" 

"For me. For art."

There isn't much flesh on Caliborn's face with which to form expressions, and it would only be anthropocentric fancy to interpret the red pigment on his cheeks as a blush, but Rose can smell a repressed homosexual urge at twenty paces. 

"Obviously. Well, if your aim is to diversify, I would recommend seeking the help of someone from the Harleybertcrocklish strain instead. I'm told Dave and I look very similar." 

Caliborn scribbles furiously on the paper. "What. Who says that. You obviously look nothing alike." 

Interesting. "I suppose we aren't identical." 

"You look way more like." 

_Interesting._ "Yes?" 

"Nobody. You remind me of nobody." Caliborn keeps stabbing his pencil across the page. 

"While it's self-affirming to hear so, it's definitely not my physical reality. Perhaps your maternal deprivation and isolated upbringing stunted your facial processing system development. Something tells me that's not the case, though—may I move my hands?" 

"What. Oh. Yes, I'm done with your. Upper anatomy. Anyway. I process faces just fine. The fact of the matter is. You look like a purple human and that's all." 

Rose stretches her shoulders a little, makes an educated guess, and selects an orange from the bowl. "Purple human? That's cute." 

"I learned that it's not generally conducive. To call females bitches to their faces."

"That's on the right track," says Rose, digging her thumbnail into the orange peel. She licks up some juice that spills down her hand, very deliberately. 

"The track. Is always where I am. Hard at work. Always. Tracking. Things." His eyes keep darting between the paper and her mouth. There's a charge in the air, and the warmth in her body has been pooling southwards for a while. 

"That's an illuminating choice of words." She may be the one on the couch, but she can't resist.

"What is?" Caliborn isn't even looking at his paper any more. 

"That you're hard, at work." Caliborn gives her a distracted glare, then she sees understanding dawn on his face. "It seems as though we both get an interspecies anatomy lesson today." She pops a piece of orange into her mouth and sucks the juice from her thumb. Caliborn slams his sketchpad down over his crotch. Before he can screech, she says, "To make it perfectly clear, that was as much an invitation as an observation." 

"Invitation to what?" Caliborn's eyes go half-lidded, and he tastes the air. Rose feels the heat in her body spike at the peek of his tongue. "You'll have to spell it out. Games are only fun. When I know the rules."

"Of course," says Rose. She picks up a banana. 


	10. Dirk/Jake - pool boy jake and pornstar dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous, who said, "Prompt for ya, if you're into it: Jake is Alpha!Dave's pool boy that he got mostly as a joke but hired on the spot. Both Dave and his socially inept pornstar brother Dirk have respective crushes on Jake. >:))"

Dirk had endured weeks of longing, an entire day of socialising at his brother's shitty house party, and about twenty minutes of watching the gorgeous target in question fish plastic champagne flutes out of the pool with the leaf skimmer, and now he is reaping his reward: he finally has a moment alone with Jake English.

Well, Dave's technically there too. But Jake is sitting on the end of Dirk's banana lounge, not Dave's, and Dave is mostly paying attention to his phone, so if he just ignores that part, it's pretty goddamn intimate. He's sitting with a beautiful boy under the stars, ripples of light from the pool washing over them.

"And the beds in the hostel are not the greatest," Jake continues brightly, "but that's all part and parcel of the whole thing, you know. I'm sure when I'm on my leg in the Asias I'll face much scantier fare."

Dirk had been convinced Dave was screwing the guy, the horrible thought of which had dominated his waking hours (and apparently his conversations: he got the hint when Roxy infected his computer with malware that blocked his screen with the music video for _Mr. Brightside_ ). But Dave had just quirked a brow in confusion when Dirk wheeled it into a conversation. Apparently Dave isn't _that_ kind of unprofessional, even though he's made plenty of jokes about it.

Dirk himself isn't technically Jake's employer—he had agonised over whether tipping him would come off that way, or whether not tipping would in the end be worse—and he is hoping to ride that technicality all the way to the bone zone. Although, just getting to sit so close and listen to him talk about his hopes and dreams is pretty amazing too. God, he is so fucked.

"Asia, huh?"

"Oh, well, there are quite a few items on my bucket list left, and most of them are there! I've nearly finished with the Americas."

Ask lots of questions, open body language. "So, how are you enjoying Hollywood?"

"Oh," says Jake, and his eyes are absolutely shining. "It's amazing. I can't believe how much magic has been made right here." He goes on to start explaining about his favourite movies, and he looks so rapt, so full of passion, that Dirk's stomach does a weird little flip.

He refuses to look at Dave, who he absolutely knows is making very annoying eyes his way. It's easy for Dirk to ignore him when he has this guy in front of him, though. Jake leans into Dirk's calf a little as he goes on, and Dirk's heart starts beating faster. What does that mean? It means something, right?

"Well," says Dave, standing up and stretching, "much as I love hearing people gush about my buddy Cameron, I have to go deal with something." He jiggles his phone loosely. "I might not be back home tonight. You're free to clock off whenever you like, Jake. Thanks for everything today. Night, guys."

"Yes, sir! Good night."

"Good night," says Dirk, and despite it being impossible to tell, he feels in his soul that Dave winks at him.

The minute the glass doors shut behind him, Jake turns to Dirk with wide eyes. "Gee willikers! Is your brother actually friends with James Cameron?"

"Uh, probably not," Dirk says, trying to deal with the fact that he apparently gets dokis over gee willikers. This crush is seriously ending him. "He's just got greasier elbows than a deep tissue masseur."

"Your brother is really something," breathes Jake. "I didn't quite have the gumption to say it while he was sitting there, but it's been the experience of a lifetime, getting to peek behind the curtains of the stars, so-to-speak. And he pays me so well for what amounts to a lot of standing around. He sure is a generous gent."

"I don't know about that. His pool does seem like a dick to clean." Dirk means that for real. The pool is shaped like a deep fried jpeg of a phallus, and it's got thousands of meticulously recreated jagged lossy edges. "Pun intended."

Jake laughs, and Dirk feels his own lips tug up in response. He feels awkward and sweaty despite the evening breeze, frozen in his no-longer-effortlessly-casual sprawl on the banana lounge in fear of breaking the tiny connection between their bodies, and he made Jake laugh and he's so happy he could puke.

"Well, I will give you that. It's worth it though. I can't believe I can say I've been tipped by Ben Stiller, and the look on his face when I told him I loved him in Envy! What a criminally underrated comedic gem. Say, have you ever been in a film?"

"...Sort of. Probably not the kind you're thinking of."

"That's exciting! I mean, I know I've been chewing your ear off about blockbusters all night, but I do know it's not all there is to cinema. I've watched most of your brother's catalogue since starting work here, so I've seen a lot of his more arthouse—Oh, were you in something by him?"

Well, that sure is an image. "No, no, I mean. I do adult films."

"Adult—"

"Porn," he reiterates, because he's hella not ashamed, and if he's going to have to smother this crush in the cradle he'd rather find out as soon as possible.

"Oh, that's cool," says Jake, and Dirk lets out a very small breath, because he's catalogued the basic reaction patterns over the years, and this looks like a version of 'slightly awkward but committed to appearing liberal minded' with a 70% chance of turning into 'barrage of weird questions'.

Jake is still leaning against his leg.

"What are you thinking?" Dirk asks, bumping Jake a little with his leg on purpose. Questions, body language. Dave can never know how much Dirk takes his advice to heart.

"Oh—just that, you're probably rather out of my league then, with all that experience. Oh! Ah, I mean—"

Dirk's heart bungees down into his stomach and ends up in his throat.

Jake twists around to face Dirk head on, the motion shoving himself further onto the lounge. "Well! You're already out of my league with the celebrity family and all, I just—wait, that's not what I wanted to… Um…"

"So what you're saying is, you've thought about it. About us."

"Well, it's not like you haven't!" says Jake, looking flustered and a little demanding and Dirk wants to cup his face, find out how warm his cheeks are—what?

"Pardon?"

Jake is now twisting the hem of his swim shorts. "I could be wrong, I'm sorry if I... But I've been getting such a vibe from you, what with the—I'm wrong, odd's bodkins, I'd better go."

Dirk sits up, hand pausing in the air over Jake's shoulder. "No, dude, you didn't read it wrong, I—I'm into you."

Jake is framed perfectly by a spray of fern, the lights from the pool painting flickering strokes along the curves of his body, green eyes wide and mouth parted softly and Dirk is suddenly sure that the degree of understatement in what he just said is completely obvious on his own face. The hovering in the shadows for three weeks, that was probably pretty obvious, too. Oh, and the completely desperate way he'd camped on this fucking lounge half the day with a pocket of bills.

He hasn't really got time to feel like an idiot, though, because Jake's eyes flicker to his (stupid) hovering hand, and then he's being kissed.

Jake has one huge, warm hand on Dirk's shoulder and the other has caught his own from midair, squeezing it tight between their chests, and it's so dashingly romantic that Dirk nearly goes offline. His body knows what to do, though, and his lips follow Jake's nearly chaste lead on dreamy autopilot for a long moment. Soft presses blend into damp catches, until a shy brush of tongue brings him shuddering into life.

Dirk isn't all that great with people, but he has enough empirical evidence to suggest he's good with dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to take this in an OT3 direction, but it didnt work out. If you'd like you can imagine that Dave does come home early... and twins happened to be on Jake's bucket list. You can also imagine the angsts of Jake leaving, but the fact that he'll always have a free place to crash in Hollywood ;)


End file.
